


Tomorrow was just another day

by SadCrimsonEyes



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Depression, Drug Addiction, Eventual Fluff, Graphical depiction of drug use, Hacking, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Loss, M/M, Male Friendship, Pain, Slang, Suicidal Thoughts, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadCrimsonEyes/pseuds/SadCrimsonEyes
Summary: A lonely Matt spends his time after Wammy's House in New Jersey, trying to escape reality and contemplating suicide. But a certain ghost from the past doesn't want to repeat a horrible mistake made years ago and tries desperately to save the redheaded hacker. Matt's past however won't stay silent either.(or: a painfully honest character study of the dark genius that is Mail Jeevas, the guy who is so much more than Mello's puppy or some comic relief gamer, and Beyond Birthday, who's not the insane sadist people like to see him as).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains a lot of junkie and hacker slang. I'm trying my best to provide in-story explanations, but if there's something you don't understand, don't hesitate to ask.

  
  


A hunched back figure, lean, frail and shaking, tried to insert keys into an appartment door. The trembling hands needed several tries until the door was finally unlocked. The man stumbled into the appartment, kicking the door shut and crashing into a filthy couch.

Reaching into his pockets, he dropped several small, saran wrapped balls onto the table, immediately cutting one open and pouring it's contents onto an already prepared, square piece of tinfoil.

A lighter was flicked and soon the light brown powder melted into a dark, sticky substance, finally dissolving into smoke. A tangy scent filled the appartment, a scent which the redheaded man knew all too well. Using a small paper tubule, he chased after the smoke, inhaling it completely, immediately followed by a drag on an untidy, handrolled cigarette.

Matt held the smoke in his lungs as long as he could. Twenty seconds, thirty seconds, just some more. Nothing must get wasted, it was so expensive. Too expensive.

Then he finally let go. Smiling and content, the hacker leaned back into the couch. The pain was numbed, the feeling of being alone gone away, at least for a while. Like a warm blanket pulled over his shivering soul.

It had took him months to admit to himself that he was addicted, and some more to call himself a junkie. Now he did, out of a warped sense of pride, because there was nothing else he could have called himself. Living for the euphoric feeling when money was exchanged for the little plastic bubbles full of his cure, or for the calmness he felt right now, seeing that enough junk lay on his couch table to get over one or maybe two days. He always liked to think that it would be two days, but usually it was barely one day. But tomorrow was another time. No need to think about that now.

"I wish I was born a thousand years ago!", Matt sang along the music blaring from his iPod. "Away from the big city / on a big big clipper ship / in a sailor's suit and cap!"

He just did not care anymore. He was alone, without friends. Not that he had ever had any friends. There was Mello, but Mello was different. Not a friend, not quite a lover. Something different. He did not know what exactly. But it was not important what he was. He had left him. Without saying anything. He was just gone. Far away. God knows where.

Dropping a single tear, the hacker looked out of the window of his appartment in Jersey City. He could see Manhattan from here, New York streching out into the distance. The city which never sleeps. Laying peaceful there, it's lights reflecting in the Hudson.

On the TV some guy was cracking jokes and reflecting on the past year. It was the 31th of December. And Matt was alone, as always. He would probably watch the fireworks from his window, or maybe on the TV. He wasn't sure. With a sigh, he took the second bubble from the table, folding himself a new piece of tinfoil.

With his mind going back to the special date, Matt did not know what he was waiting for, or why he was even continuing. Probably he was just afraid to die. But he was afraid to live too. He was somewhere in between, on the edge between life and death, unable to decide. So he just walked, walked, walked, day after day, fix after fix, until the next day, the next fix. It was his life now. "It's my life and it's my wife.", the hacker quoted sarcastically, another tear dropping from his eye.

It had started ironically simple. Matt was smiling, but he did not know if it was out of fun or disgust. Maybe it was both. Probably. Likely.

L was dead. And Mello, unable to work together with Near, had left. So much he had understood. But Mello had not taken him with him. He had left without a goodbye, packing in total silence, and after Matt finally got what was happening, he had cried, for the first time in years. And the blonde had not said anything. He did not even look. He'd just gone, closing the door behind him.

Everything he had been believing in had been crushed on that day. The hacker's little mind had been blown, as trust became fear, and love became pain. And after about six months, he had slowly been finding out that he could not cope. He turned to cigarettes, and later, as he left Wammy's, the tar became friends with heroin. The queen of drugs, as some oldtime junkies liked to call it. But it could not drown out the pain for long. But Matt was thankful for one year of peace in his mind. One year of warm numbness. But it was wearing off, Mello was creeping back into his mind. And Mello wasn't alone. Fear, sadness and loneliness followed the blonde.

Watching the fireworks outside, the lonely hacker tried to think about the future. It was hard. Junkies do not think about the future. You could die every day, or be out of smack. You don't think about that, it just brings you down. The only thing in your mind is the amount of cash you could possibly get the next day, and how it would translate into milligrams. No time to think, no time to be bored, and most often, no time to sleep.

Matt tried hard. But he saw no future. It would go on and on. Probably he would get himself infected with HIV or or hepatitis-c soon. It was bound to happen. Happened to everyone long enough in the scene. A good excuse to die for everyone who was too afraid to commit suicide. And Matt was too afraid. Or so he thought.

It did not matter... honestly, it did not matter if he would die today or tomorrow or next month or in 20 years. He was somewhat content today, at least more than usually, and that was a good mood to leave forever. Maybe it was easier to end it when he was in pain. But he did not want to go in pain. He had always dreamed about ending his live with a smile. And smiling got harder and harder nowadays.

There was so much he could tell, so much he *wanted* to tell. So much to talk about, but there was nobody to listen. There were only the lonely hacker and the night outside, and the city which never sleeps. But Matt was tired, he wanted to sleep. Tired of everything. Of running and hiding, shivering, pain, pain, pain, loneliness. Of being alone. Another salty tear dropped on the windowsill. Who would want to listen to his pathetic whining anyway? Roger had stopped calling him long ago.

Slowly he slipped down onto the floor. He was tired, tired, tired, his eyelids heavy, and pain crushing his little soul. He was lying on the hard floor, trying to smile, but unable so. But the lonely hacker did not care. Because tomorrow was just another day.

Tomorrow was just another day, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where's Rika?", Matt asked a black-haired girl sitting on the street in front of a paper cup. "About 50, very lean, wears a grey cap." The girl didn't respond, likely she had no idea what the redhead was talking about. But Matt knew where Rika was. He had seen her just a few days ago in a very bad shape, and now he just wanted to hear the story from a third person. You never get the whole story from a single person. One of the lessons he had learned.

Suddenly the hacker felt himself hugged in a tight embrace. "Ah, privet Matto, tovarich...", the slurred voice began. It was a female, in her forties, even more lean than the black-haired hobo-girl, and of russian origin. Always smelling like rotten vodka. "Hi Taty", the hacker said.

"You're in need?", the woman continued, hugging Matt not out of compassion, but to avoid collapsing. 'Egoists, whereever you look', the redhead thought. "Aye, gimme one.", he said, turning around and kissing the drunken lady.

After a few moments of making out, or at least, pretending to do so, Matt had what he wanted, while the drunk russian lady put the ten bucks in her pocket. "Take care!", Matt shouted behind her, thinking about how she always managed not to get busted. Obviously the luck was with the booze-heads. If only he could say that about himself.

Matt decided to walk back home, despite of the rain pouring down on him. People were running from the downpour and after some minutes of walking, the streets were empty. His whole body was itching, he wanted to do it right here, and finally, somewhat but not overly disgusted with himself he sat down in a dark alley.

Rain and darkness made it somewhat hard, but after all, Matt was a professional and found an usable veine on the first try. And after a few moments, he felt warm and content again.

Today he had to finish one difficult job, as his contractor would show up in the evening, bringing some bags of the hacker's favorite drug. He was always payed in morphine or smack nowadays, never asking for cash. It would bring him at least two months of peace.

Later that day, he had actually finished the program in time and big boss had left a gratituous amount of junk after having received a successful and stunning demo from the redheaded hacker. The program was perfect, complicated in scope yet easy to use, but still a cake to code for Matt. Mere minutes after his boss had left he was high high high on heroin. Warm, blissful numbness, making him forget about solitude, pain and tristesse, the warm blanket of smack pulled over his mind. It was much, he knew, noticing the slight trouble he had filling his lungs with air.

On the edge of his vision, he saw the familiar black, shadowed flashes he always saw when he got a bit too much. Yet, he was not in danger, he knew his body, he knew what he could take and what not. The uncomfortable couch was comfortable for the moment.

Often he did not even know why he was talking with the junkies and hobos, not to mention caring for them. It's always bad if you care too much. Makes you weak and vulnerable, giving others an opportunity to dike their knife into your cracked mind. Maybe it was because they were similar. They had been abused, dumped, handled like trash by friends and relatives, bullied into depression, tough shit, really, and now they were one big, happy family, talking about veins and guns and the right amount of ascorbin acid. No, screw that, they weren't that happy, they just thought so. Or the smack let them think they were. Or it was a faux happiness, but Matt was a genius, he could tell the real thing from the fake. Intelligence is a curse.

Mello would be disgusted.

Matt just heard his sappy voice making up excuses in his mind. Or, rather, those weren't excuses. Facts, probably. Mello had left him without an goodbye, to beat the shit out of the sheep, and it wasn't as if the other orphans at Wammy's had liked the stripe-loving geek. Not at all, not at all. He had enough scars on his body to tell, and today they were itching.

The hacker got up, knees trembling, and crashed in front of his computer for another round of System Shock. Old, very old, mid ninetees, but creepy and claustrophobic, a lonely guy on a space station with a dead crew and a malevolent AI watching, trying to kill him and taunting him over the intercom:

_"Look at you, hacker. A pathetic creature of meat and bone. Panting and sweating as you run through my corridors. How can you challenge an immortal and perfect machine?"_

It had always been his favorite game. It was a masochistic experience, almost impossible to beat. And after all, he really felt like a pathetic creature of meat and bone. Yeah, GlaDOS was a weak joke against SHODAN.

Mello would be disgusted. Yes yes yes.

Mello. Why was Mello still important? Why was he still thinking about the guy who had dumped him for his stupid mission? Pathetic. Pathetic like a NOP-sled, something for people who can't do simple math in their heads. And Mello could neither do math nor basic human emotions. He was as cold as ice, just like his beautiful eyes, and everything was a war, some violent battle about a bloody number, which nobody cared about anyway anymore, as L was dead. Yeah, he was dead. Fuck him, fuck Whammy's, fuck everything.

First, second, third, whatever. Just a number. A number people would die for, like A, Angel. Beyond's Angel. And Beyond had snapped over Angel's dead, so a complete load of new children had to suffer the same shit over and over again, until a new A, under a different code letter, would emerge. Or a different B.

But they were all dead, long dead, so why bother. Matt was tired, wanted to sleep, the uncomfortable couch was comfortable today. Yeah, screw them all...


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning...

* * *

> 
>     DIALING...
>     CONNECT 19200
>     
>     
>         THE WAMMY'S HOUSE    NODE1::     CLASSIFIED SYSTEM
>       Welcome to AXP/VMS, Alpha Operating System - Version 8.1-WA36
>     
>       Username: M2
>       Password: ***********
>         Last interactive login on Thursday, 03-JAN-2008 02:32
>           Last non-interactive login never.
>       $ _
>     
>     

* * *

Matt gagged on his coffee. Something was very wrong here... the Wammy system showed clearly that he had been online at 2:32 in the night. But... he was asleep during that time. And... shit shit shit! There was only one thing to do.

* * *

> 
>       $ show session/timeframe=(0220,0240)
>     
>        Time         User          Terminal     Line
>        -----------  ------------  ----------   --------------------
>        02:32:09.01  M2            TT24:        V.24 DN4-V2A  ITT
>     
>       $ delete *.*;*		  
> 
> _[delete all of my files]_
>     
>     
>       $ lgout
>        %DCL-F-IVVERB, invalid command verb or spelling.
>     
>       $ logout
>        M2    logged out at 03-JAN-2008 08:51:32.04
>     
>     

* * *

Whoever this was, there was now a great chance that he or she knew his current residence. Normally the redhead would have tried a meticuous forensic analysis, but in this case it was futile and dangerous. The more time he spent on this system, the bigger the chance that the intruder might trace the call straight to his laptop... and whoever had the guts and technical ability to get into _this_ system would have covered up his traces anyway and could as well be invisible by now.

At least there was some evidence... the intruder came from a circuit owned by ITT. International Telephone and Telegraph Company... so he wasn't in United Kingdom... which would exclude all the current orphans living in Wammy's genius asylum.

Half an hour later the redheaded man knew where line DN4-V2A ended... right there, in New Jersey. So whoever was so interested in Matt's files, he was actually right here.

Cold sweat started to appear on Mail's forehead. There was no way that this was coincidence. Someone had managed to get into one of the most secure systems on this planet, the Wammy's House mainframe, to get information about him, Mail... and this someone was in the exact same city as he was? Oh.

Mello? No. Lacks the skills. Kira? Hmm. But wasn't that guy in Japan? Or was he that good that he could re-route the call via the US? Phew. At least there were no records of his real name, nor any photos. A name and a face to kill. So he was safe. Was he safe? Matt's head was spinning, a dreadful vertigo of fear, paranoia and... The lonely hacker pulled a cigarette out of the pack and flicked the lighter. Screw it, he thought, and began folding a new piece of tinfoil.

As the air was slowly taking up the scent of tobacco and heroin, exhaled smoke creating abstract figurines as it was wafting through the narrow jets of sunlight shining through the blinds, a strange sense of peace took hold of Matt. What exactly was he that afraid of just few moments ago? That someone could come and shoot him? But wasn't he already killing himself, slowly, day after day? Would there be any difference then?

And Matt felt tired suddenly, stretching himself out on the couch, fiddling with his mp3 player. Closing his eyes and listening to the soothing, white noise of his computer and the song which began playing, his mind wandered back to the time when Mello and he were best friends back at Wammy's House.

_"This is the end... my only friend, the end. / This is the end..."_

It had been a warm, almost tropical summer in Winchester and Mello was outside playing soccer with some of the lower ranking boys. Even Matt himself couldn't stand the eat in the attic of the old building and had found himself a wooden bench in the shadow of and old oak tree, playing with his trusty old Gameboy and occasionally glancing over to the playing boys.

The then brown-headed boy was dozing on and off, and after he opened his eyes again after another short episode of deep daydreaming, the blonde boy with the piercing, blue eyes had taken the seat next to him. Mello. Even though the blonde was gazing into the distance, Matt always felt scrutinized when someone invaded into his personal space, and it was not different this time. In fact it felt even worse with this particular boy, as Mello was surrounded by an eery, passive-agressive aura at all times. He was the type of person you always felt uncomfortable with. In that regard Mello was similar to Near, but as much as the sheep seemed to be coldly judging everything and everyone around him, he lacked the mocking smile and the mischievous look of the blonde. As much as Near was creepy, Mello was scary.

"L once said 'He who strikes first wins', Red.", the blonde boy spat out.

"Matt. Name's Matt. What are you referring too?", the teenaged hacker asked, not without a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I'm referring to you, Matt.", Mello said firmly, now staring into Matt's eyes which were, as always, hidden behind orange-tinted goggles.

Suddenly, Mello leaned closer, his hand taking Matt's hair in a firm grip, pulling the goggle-wearing boy into a kiss. The blonde seemed very passionate about this, and as the brownhaired nerd didn't immediately open his mouth, a sharp and violent pull on his hair did the trick.

Matt was overwhelmed and too stunned to do anything, and after Mello seemed to be satisfacted with the kiss, he had left the gamer, but not without a hard bite into his neck, even drawing some blood, without saying a single word.

Despite his youthful innocense, Matt knew exactly what had just happened. Mello had claimed him. 'Du gehörst mir! Mir allein!', where the unspoken words. _[german; "You are mine! Only mine!"]_

And Mello had fucked him, hard, whenever he felt like it. Mail had always suspected it was both possessiveness and stress relief. And probably a scheme to annoy the sheep. 'Look, I have a fucktoy, sheep. You got only your robots.'

Later, Mello had left him in almost the same way. Without any words.

The skin on his neck where he had been bitten had scarred, and even now, six years later, he could still see where Mello's sharp canines had pierced his skin. But Mello wasn't a vampire, at least not in the usual sense, as he didn't crave blood. No, he was craving power, energy, loyalty... anything which could bring him closer to his goal of becoming number one, of becoming L, of beating Near and everyone in his way, like a station wagon running down a hill without brakes.

Even though-

***KNOCK* *KNOCK***

Upon hearing someone knocking at the door, Matt shrieked and jumped on his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt listens to the song The End by The Doors.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Matt exactly one second to pull his trusty Glock and go into self-defense mode. Shoving his thoughts away and tensing his muscles, he slowly made for the door, more dancing towards it with cat like movements than walking. With a rough and sudden movement, he yanked his appartment-door open.

With an annoyed sigh he peeked outside. But noone was to be seen, nobody to relieve the sudden tension. Rolling his eyes, the hacker gave the door a kick and went back to the couch. Too late however he noticed that the click, indicating that the door had indeed fallen into it's lock, was menacingly absent.

In a splitsecond he was shoved into a wall, his arms painfully twisted behind his back. Handcuffs were put on his wrists, the metallic clink as they were locked tightly sending a shiver down his spine, and before he could turn his head around, a bag was put over his head. Matt squirmed and gasped in surprise. Yet the only thing he heard was a dark chuckle.

The struggling redhead was dragged further into his appartment, a punch into his ribs sending him down. As he felt that legirons were locked onto his ankles and their chain looped through the chain of his handcuffs, he knew that he was defeated. _Shit..._

Kneeling on the floor and unable to do anything or even see, fear began to rise in his mind. It was just to elaborate. If someone wanted him dead, they would just have shot him. But this smelled like real trouble. Like revenge, maybe from someone he had blackmailed in the past. Or they were after his stash of classified data. Which would be even worse, as these files were encrypted. So what might it be? Waterboarding? Electric shocks? Cutting?

Matt tried to follow the footsteps through his appartment. It was obviously only a single kidnapper. From the sounds, he was searching something. The redhead heard some typing, probably on his own computer, as well as papers which were shuffled around. His notes? Probably.

>   
>  "...as you approach the expiration time of your password, you receive an advance warning message. The message first appears 5 days before the expiration date and at each subsequent login. The message appears immediately below the new mail message and sounds the bell character on your terminal to attract your attention...."

... a mumbling voice said. It was a male voice Matt did not recognize, with a dark and somewhat monotone timbre. A creepy voice.

> "...when you're running under Telex, you're part of one of several "jobs" inside the system. Generally there's "TELEX", something to run the line printer, something to run the card reader, the mag tape drivers (named "MAGNET") and maybe a few others floating around. There's limited space inside a Cyber... would you believe 128K 60-bit words?.. so there's a limited number of jobs that can fit. CDC put all their effort into "job scheduling" to make the best of what they had..."

"Hey! What's this supposed to be, freak!?", Matt yelled.

The apparent burglar stopped reading, his footsteps coming closer slowly. Matt had to swallow, maybe calling the guy a freak wasn't his best idea after all. The hacker almost jumped out of his skin as the bag was ripped away from his head. He was looking directly into the eyes of his kidnapper.

The redheaded man had never seen such eyes. They were dark and piercing, with an almost unnoticeable shimmer of red in them. It took him some seconds to realize that there weren't just eyes in front of him, but a face and a body too. It was the face of a man in his late twenties, Matt guessed, with sharp but somewhat handsome features. Long and almost black hair framed the facial features of this man. His body looked quite bony, like his face, and he was dressed in a black longsleeve and dark-grey jeans. In one swift movement he sat down in front of the restrained hacker.

"Don't you know who I am, _Mail Jeevas_?", the man asked mockingly, putting an emphasis on the real name of his prey.

"No idea, creep. Some goon sent by Drago?", Matt spat, rolling his eyes in disgust, just before the shock of hearing his real name from some mugger set in. "I... I'm not Jeevas. You got the wrong guy, you hear me!?"

"You are Mail Jeevas. You dyed your hair red since the last time we've met, but the rest did not change that much. Neither your interests nor your fondness of striped clothing."

"Whoa... what do you mean we've met? I don't know you? Who are you?", Matt almost yelled in a short fit of anger, pulling uselessly at the chains.

The mugger just smirked and waited a few seconds before answering. "I am B.", he said.

The redhead opened his eyes widely, before shaking his head in disbelief. "B is dead. He died in prison years ago!"

"Let's assume you were right. Who might break into your appartment then, knowing your real name and where you actually come from? If you do not believe me, just ask me anything about Wammy's House. I can even tell you the real name of Mello, Near or the other kids. Or Watari. Even L."

"Knowing L's name doesn't prove anything for me. Nobody knows his real name, not even me. But... okay. Tell me Mello's name. And Watari's."

"Mihael Keehl, M-I-H-A-E-L K-E-E-H-L and Quillsh Wammy, Q-U-"

"Okay, stop! That's enough... I... I believe you. So what do you want from me, B?"

"I have specific reasons to show myself to you, but I can't talk about everything just yet. I reveal everything in time however. I came to the conclusion that it was necessary to get external help for something I have planned. First I wanted to go to Mello, but when I saw the sorry state you are in... well, you might call it pity. Or let's better say, we are, after all, in the same family, so to say, and as there is noone to look after you... I decided to visit you."

"And mug me!?"

"I'm a wanted criminal after all, even as most people believe that I am in fact dead. I had to be careful."

Matt had to agree... he would have acted the same way. But still, the whole situation was so awkward. After all, he had woken up with a dreadful hangover, noticed that the Wammy's mainframe had been hacked expertly and now he was kneeling, chained and all, in front of a notorious and probably insane killer which everyone presumed to be dead.

Beyond Birthday sat a moment in silence in front of the redheaded hacker, before reaching around him and unlocking the handcuffs. Matt rubbed his sore wrists, again shaking his head in disbelief.

"Didn't you forget-", Matt started.

"I'm afraid I don't trust you completely yet, Mail. So for the moment, you have to cope with the legirons. I can't have you running away just now, and there's something specific that we need do. Are they too tight?"

"No... I guess it's okay.", the hacker said, playing with the chain between his ankles. It was long enough to walk, but running was impossible like this. "I feel like a prisoner though. The lock is interesting."

"I know you're into lockpicking.", Beyond said with a toothy smile. "I had them imported from Europe, just for you. The standard police stuff is way too easy to pick. Even I can do that."

"So you're not only a sadistic bastard but a kinky one too?", Mail said, immediately regretting his big mouth. But to his surprise, Beyond burst into a fit of laughter. It was even... cute. Somewhat. But damn, he is a serial killer, he is not cute. But still... Mello would have given him a black eye for such a remark, but this guy...?

For the first time in some years, Matt was genuinly confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beyond reads random computer manuals lying around in Matt's appartment. The quotes are from the "VMS User's Manual" (2002) and issue #17 of the "Phrack Magazine" (late 1980s).


	5. Chapter 5

After a few more awkward moments, Beyond had helped Matt to shuffle towards the couch, finally crashing down besides his victim.

And as awkward the situation was, something, deep down in Matt's heart, was itching right in this moment. Was it his bondage kink he always denied? Or maybe Beyond itself? Beyond, the serial killer, the failed experiment, the bogey man of Wammy's?

Whatever it was, Matt needed a cigarette now and soon he was dragging blue smoke into his lungs. Beyond looked somewhat disgusted, but the redhead couldn't care less. Ignoring his captor completely he went to explore the legirons he was wearing. It was beautiful craftmanship, and the locks were indeed a real highlight compared to the shoddy stuff which were handed out to the cops. Matt could break out of anything in less than five seconds, but this was something completely different. For the first time in many years, he really felt trapped.

"Why are you consuming this shit?", Beyond finally asked, holding up a bag of brown powder.

"Ah, wow wow.... don't touch that!", the redheaded hacker panicked.

"I see. I don't want to know what your physician-"

"Physician!? Beyond, we're in the US. Do I look as if I have health insurance? I'm my own doctor. Actually, I'm pretty good at that stuff."

"What about your teeth, does-"

"Stop."

"Mail. Of all countries in the world, why did you come here? You'd be even better off in Nigeria with your medical conditions."

"Maybe because I want to die?"

"I would miss you."

" _YOU_ of all people would miss _ME_ , the guy who's torturing innocents for shits and giggles!?"

"That's what they told you about me? Am I now the bogeyman at Wammy's? _Hey, do your homework, or BB will come and take your leg!_ ", the older man said sarcastically.

Matt didn't know what to say and looked away.

Suddenly Beyond jumped athletically on Matt and pinned him onto the couch. Matt shrieked, but instead of getting attacked, as he had expected, the other man planted a single, calm kiss on his forehead. The redhead looked confused for a moment, and then suddenly very sad, a single tear escaping from his eye. This was a reaction Beyond hadn't expected at all.

"Mail. What happened to you? Really... tell me. I've been through that shit myself. I've seen my best friend and... lover... die because of that crap. What did it do to you, the time at the orphanage...?", the killer asked, genuinely concerned. And Matt noticed that there was something in B's eyes, something strange and terrible, an unbearable pain flashing behind his dark red irises. And then it was already gone... gone in an instant, the blink of an eye hiding it behind a stoic mask. He just couldn not stop gazing into those pleading eyes. He was mesmerized, still unable to understand why this strange, blackhaired man suddenly cared about him and his pityful existence.

The hacker felt tears stinging in his eyes, and a thick lump forming in his throat. He wanted to talk... wanted to explain it, everything was already laid out in his head, a dialoge rehearsed countless times over and over in solitude, but now it was no good. He didn't want to give away what was happening with him, but appareantly, Beyond saw it. He looked right through his skin, into his body, deep down into his broken soul, an awful and scary feeling, but at the same time... eerily comforting. The killer pulled the hacker into a tight hug, without any words, because they just weren't needed. Words could not fix anything anymore, Beyond was sure... but it was not too late to patch the crack with something else. Friendship. Trust. Intimacy. Both cracks, Beyond corrected himself silently. Because as he was comforting Matt, he felt the warmth of the redhead silencing his own screaming pain. An eye for an eye.

In just these few moments Matt had fallen asleep in Beyonds tight embrace, and the killer carefully laid the redhead on the couch. It was a beautiful and peaceful sight, not only because B had always loved to watch people sleeping. The mask had fallen off of Matt, the concerned face, wrinkled from some pain the killer didn't know about just yet, was gone. And then, suddenly, he knew. He knew where his fascination was stemming from.

This boy reminded him a lot of his Angel. Of A. But this time, the killer swore to himself, this time he would change things, so that the tragedy which was bound to happen in one year and 20 days, would not take place. He had never tried to change fate, to fight against what the numbers where telling him, but now, as he saw the life ticking away from Matt, he could at least try to do so.

Matt awoke a few hours later and found Beyond sleeping near himself on the couch, a hand still clinging to the fabric of his striped shirt. He knew obviously that looks can be deceiving, but no matter how hard he tried to do so, he just could not imagine this man to be a coldblooded, sadistic killer. Beyond, Matt had to acknowledge, was actually right about what he assumed people would say about him back at Wammy's House. He was indeed something like the Bogeyman there, but of course nobody would scare the children with him... even though he could definitely see Roger doing just that. But there were stories, passed from the elder generations onto the younger ones, stories about a depressed boy and his strange suicide years ago and one deviant and cruel boy, B, who would torture small animals for fun and keep the bodys in jars under his bed. Every orphanage, the redhead assumed, had their dark stories, their monsters, and ghosts. But never had he expected to actually meet the most infamous of these ghost, much less have him sleeping peacefully right next to him.

And peaceful he looked indeed, even somewhat cute, sucking on his thumb while being asleep, with the other hand clinging to Matt's shirt.

The questions Beyond had been asking came back into the hacker's mind. 'Yes, what happened to me...?', he asked himself. He felt as if the answer was easy, as if it was something tangible he could explain in a few words, but the more he tried to formulate something in his head, the more confusing his thoughts became, as they were floating around, contradicting each other and mocking him over his fruitless attempts to develop a somewhat coherent theory.


	6. Chapter 6

In absolute silence Matt sneaked towards the couch table, trying not to let the chain of his legirons jingle. This was all way to much, to much for him, he needed a fix. Right now, immediately. The tinfoil was folded in a few moments, and soon he inhaled his cure. Trying to light a cigarette however, he dropped his zippo on the floor.

Beyond immediately jerked upwards and Matt froze completely. The killer looked around in confusion, and then laying his eyes on the hacker like a tiger on his prey. "Matt.", he said. "Matt. Why?"

"I can't hold it, damn it. I can't! It's too much, the lonelines, the pain. And you, breaking in my appartment, chaining me as if I was your pup or something.", the redhead almost cryed.

"Fine, do what you want.", Beyond sighed. "I'm probably not the best rolemodel either."

"Like hell you are."

"I just had good teachers."

"What the fuck do you mean? Did they teach you to kill little girls?"

"L has no problems torturing information out of his suspects, if that is what you mean. Or rather, he lets Watari do the dirty work. That's not an excuse for what I did, but we Wammy kids are all morally ambivalent bastards. Murder cases are not exactly good night stories for toddlers."

"Oh shut up, L would never-"

"Wanna see _MY_ scars!?", Beyond shouted.

"You mean..."

"Yes, exactly that. And he _was_ experienced with what he was doing to me, so much I could definitely tell."

Matt more or less collapsed on the floor. Sitting in front of the couch table he stared at his hands. Was Beyond lying? But why would he lie? Then he remembered the only time he heard L's voice. " _I am that monster._ ", he had said. Monster. Fuck.

"Did he know?", the hacker finally asked.

"Whom do you mean?".

"Your friend. The one who-"

"You mean A. They called us Alternative and Backup, A and B. He knew. Yes, he did..."

"They told us it was because of the pressure... the workload. That he-"

"WHAT!?", Beyond spat. "They told you WHAT!?"

"Yes, Roger-"

"Damn that old man! Angel had no problems with the workload. Hell, he rarely even studied for tests, it was all intuition for him. He could have been one hell of a detective."

Matt could almost see the fire in Beyond's eyes as he was talking about his fallen angel, but at the same time he seemed to be upset and very sad. "What happened then?", the redhead asked.

The killer didn't answer immediately. Instead, he was looking around, as if he was searching something. After a few seconds, his view went back to Matt.

"Shortly before his passing away he was already the de-facto appointed successor to L. And L even let A help him on some cases. That was when the mirror began to crack. You see, A was a boy with very high moral standards. He was an altruistic person, someone who would listen to your problems, always having a good advice. He wanted to make this world a better place for everyone, and fighting evil was an obvious choice. Not that he had any choice really, but he readily took it upon himself.  
L, on the other hand, was totally different. For him, it was nothing but some mental stimulation. A game, if you will. And he made sure that he won every single time. In that regard he was really childish. Furthermore he had no moral compass altogether and if he was stuck in some case he would readily resort to lying, manipulation, torture or blatant violence. He would step as low as he had to, just to be the winner in the end.  
Angel never really told me about all this, but I pieced things together. And when he saw what a monster L really was, his world collapsed. The person he had aspired becoming a heir of used the same dirty tactics as the criminals. It's not far off to assume that if Wammy had never found him, L would have became a criminal mastermind.  
And, well... Angel didn't want to become a monster. He couldn't bear watching L sitting in his armchair, devouring cakes and sweets and watching his poor suspects literally spilling their guts on a small screen in front of him. Just to win some bloody game. To finish some case.  
And so... his would-be successor became nothing more than another one of his victims. Isn't that fucking irony?"

Matt, unable to say anything, just stared at Beyond. "Fuck.", he finally said.

"Exactly.", Beyond said absent-minded, watching the redheaded boy blowing smoke in the air.

After hearing B's story, Matt felt incredibly defeated. For years there had been the nagging feeling deep in his guts that something about the whole Wammy system was very wrong, yet he could never lay his finger on it. Yet at the same time he wanted to believe that it was indeed for some greater good... Mello had always been talking about L like some morally flawless super-hero, and he had believed him mostly. It was clear that his friend back then had been idealizing the detective, but still, there was no reason to believe something vastly different. Even during the interview, where the children could ask L questions and the detective had been calling himself a monster, it had sounded more like an innocent riddle. Never had it occured to him that L could have meant that literally.

But L was indeed a monster and he knew it. He knew it, accepted it and probably even embraced it. It was so horrible and disgusting, Matt wanted to scream.

Minutes passed in total silence, with the redheaded hacker smoking and the older killer watching him doing so.

"Beyond?"

"Yeah?"

"How did he look like? I mean... I..."

"It's okay, Mail. Actually... he looked fair. He wasn't a pornstar or something, but he was attractive in his own way. He had dirty, blonde hair and brown eyes. A lean frame. He was mostly wearing black pants, t-shirts with funny prints on them and some plaid shirt. He had lots of them. Ah, and he had a lot of kinky accessoires. Handcuffs dangling from a belt loop and such stuff.", Beyond Birthday explained with a dreamy smile on his lips.

"Did he arrest you often?", Matt asked, returning the smile.

"Oh, yes, I was very deviant.", the killer said, gazing into the distance.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. But still... thanks."

"Eh... could you help me getting to my bed?"

"You tired?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

Beyond raised from the couch and helped Matt on his feet, supporting him until he finally crashed on the bed. The redhead immediately grabbed a pillow and began hugging it, while the older man laid down on the bed too.

Matt noticed how tears were running from B's eyes, but no sound made it out of the other man's mouth. The hacker just grabbed the other's hand, squeezing it tightly and whispered: "Together... we can be somewhat less lonely. Stay."

Beyond just squeezed Matt's hand in return as an answer, unable to talk right now.


	7. Chapter 7

When Beyond awoke after some hours, it was late afternoon. For a while he just listened to the soothing white noise of the traffic outside accompagnied by the calm snoring of the redheaded gamer. He hadn't woken up like this in years.

He could feel Matt being very close and after opening his eyes and looking around he noticed that the sleeping redhead was indeed clinging onto him. It felt strange somehow and Beyond couldn't really decide if he liked it or not, as he hadn't been experiencing close physical contact since... Yes. Since A had left.

Would Angel approve of this? Would it be okay? He did not know. Probably. Maybe. At least, his Angel wouldn't have wanted him to deny himself any comfort for the rest of his life. And, Beyond had to acknowledge, it felt good indeed. It felt good to be accepted. It felt good to be loved, even though he couldn't tell if this was some kind of love at all or just the desperate act of someone very lonely.

Did it even matter?

Beyond didn't know the answer. Instead he just turned around so that he could face Matt und put his arms around him. The redhead mumbled something unintelligble and smiled, leaving B to wonder what the hacker might be dreaming.

For the second time the killer swore to himself that just this time he would fight fate. Do everything to make the numbers above Matt's head change. He asked himself what might happen in one year, on the 26th of January. Could it be Kira? But that was quite unlikely, given that Matt lived under the radar, wasn't a known criminal and surely wouldn't confront Kira on his own. Or... maybe even he himself, Beyond, would get him killed somehow. Maybe he had gotten things rolling just by being here?

Indeed, the worst thing was not what the numbers were telling him. It was rather the fact that, like in chaos theory, a single action, no matter how small and miniscule it might be, could change everything. A butterfly flaps it wings in Beijing and in New York it starts raining. Beyond had never liked this theory. It was messy, similar to the paradoxon of time-travel.

Still, it had been the same with A's suicide. Even if he was very sure that L was the culprit, B had always asked himself he could have done something to prevent the seemingly inevitable. Back then he was of the firm conviction that fate couldn't be cheated, that the numbers were right and would never change. Yet when he saw a glitch for the first time, during the time of the Wara Ningyo murders, things started to get complicated. It was a small boy whose time left suddenly jumped from 78 years down to eight months. Back then it had struck Beyond like a thunderbolt and for minutes he was just standing there on the street, staring at the young mother with her toddler. The implications of this were even worse than the fact that he had the eyes in the first place. Because it meant that nothing was secure anymore. The fucking numbers could change. Maybe they could even lie.

But first things first. The most important job to do was to keep Matt from killing himself accidently with his drugs. Thankfully Beyond knew quite a lot about illicit substances and how to come of off them without fear and loathing. He would let the hacker continue using, but gradually replace the real smack with some similar looking but harmless substance. That way Matt would taper off within some time without noticing anything, and in some months he could surprise him by saying "Oh, by the way, you're clean now."

* * *

When he awoke some hour later, Matt found himself in a tight embrace with Beyond Birthday. For the first second the redhead was dreadfully scared, but when his memory filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle he calmed down immediately.

It felt good waking up without being alone and having a warm, breathing body near him. And he remembered how Mello, even though the blonde wasn't romantic at all, just had this effect on him when Matt had woken up and he was still there, years ago. Could it be that Beyond felt the same way about him? The redhead wasn't sure if he should ask the older man that.

It occured to Matt that B had been telling him a lot of private stuff. Information that could be used to incriminate B. The fact alone that the killer was still alive could was a dangerous secret. Did the guy really trust him? Or had B just been spilling stuff because Matt's death was already a done deal?

Whatever it was, for now, there was no need to care about this. No need to care about anything. At least now.

Matt fished for the remote control, trying not to awake the sleeping killer. Searching for some european news channel (the huge satellite dish was finally useful for something), he saw news about some raid and an explosion in L.A., and, of course, lots of talking hats rambling about Kira. Disgusted, the redhead switched the TV off again.

A few seconds later, Matt's cellphone made a beep. The hacker flipped the phone open and let it fall on the floor a few seconds afterwards.

"Mail! What's happening?", a slightly tired Beyond asked.

The redhead just pointed at the phone lying on the floor. The killer took it into his hand and read the text message displayed.

> 
>         Message 1/38                      M
>        _____________________________________
>       !  HELP,DYING! EXPLS. BADLYB URNT!    !
>       !  IM IN LA, STH WILM AVE / E223 ST   !
>       !  ARCO RAFFNRY                       !
>       !  PLZ COME!                          !
>       !  M                                  !
>       !_____________________________________!
>         [Save]                      [Reply]
>     
>     

"Shit.", Mail said.

"Mello?", Beyond asked.

"Mhmmm."


	8. Chapter 8

"I get that a life is on the line, but why not call an ambulance!?", Beyond asked while frantically typing on the keyboard of Matt's various computers.

"'Cause he surely did some shit and doesn't want the cops involved!", Matt yelled back, typing on another computer. "By the way, where did you learn that shit!?"

"I'm a genius, right? I was the one in the Wammy system looking up your address."

"You're kidding me!?"

"Nope. Angel installed that system in the first place, so I know it's inner workings..." Beyond raised a brow as he looked on his screen. "Hey, can you look at that, I don't get it!"

* * *

> 
>       unix1.beta-airlines.com   IN AAAA   2A01:898:17:8000::42
>     

* * *

"Yeah, what? That's the host number. Ah, wait... it's been some time that you did this stuff, right? That's IP Version 6, some new shit. It's like the old IP, but with 64bit numbers. Just punch it in, it'll work!", Matt explained.

"Okay...", the killer said, typing on the keyboard.

* * *

> 
>       % telnet 2A01:898:17:8000::42
>       Trying...
>       Connected to 2a01:898:17:8000::42 port 23
>       Escape character is '^]'.
>     
>       IRIX 6.1R (ux1) ttyp74
>     
>               W e l c o m e   t o   B e t a   A i r l i n e s
>     
>             Unauthorized use is prohibited and punishable by law.
>        This system is monitored 24/7 by qualified systems programmers!
>     
>       login: bin
>       Password: ******
>       no motd.
>       csh: Warning: No home directory.
>       UX1> _
>     
>     

* * *

"Hey, Mail, what was that thing called?"

"Uhm... **resvlink** if I remember right, but it's not in the path. Try **nfs** or something!", Matt yelled back at Beyond.

* * *

> 
>       UX1> ls -l /nfs
>       drwxr-xr-x  1 root    256 Jul 12 00:41 resvlink
>       drwxr-xr-x  2 root    256 Jul 12 00:29 pkgconfig
>       -r--r--r--  1 root   3021 Mar 24 21:12 rcrt0.o
>       UX1> /nfs/resvlink/bin/resvlink
>       ^L
>                  ** Reservation Management **
>       (U)se existing reservation number or (a)dd new one? _
>     
>     

* * *

"Got it, thanks! We have a reservation soon!"

"Fine. I'm just making sure that we get through airport security without IDs. You know, patriot act stuff. But it doesn't like me, honestly. Strange beast.", the hacker complained.

After a few moments, Beyond was finished with the reservations and moved over to the younger man. Bright blue text flickered on the screen.

"I know exactly what to run here, but it's constantly yells 'abnormal end / out of memory' and dumps a shitload of stack data on me. I don't really expect that-"

"That's an IBM Three-Ninety. No, you have to log out and go in again... Yep, like this.", Beyond explained.

"Yeah, but I did exactly that!", Matt whined.

"Nah. Now add **size(8000)** after the name and you'll ready to go. That one's more like my generation of machines. Ah, and run **ISPF** , that way you don't have to type all the commands manually."

"Okaaay...", Matt said, and began to work.

* * *

**January 4, 0:36 AM**

Just three hours later, the two men sat in a plane going straight from New York to Los Angeles. At the security check-in they had earned some strange looks, but just the right sweet-talking with some special codes let them walk freely to the waiting plane. Matt swore to himself that he was too old for this shit, much to the amusement of Beyond Birthday. Smuggling the huge bag of Heroin into the plane was a piece of cake in comparison.

It was a six-hour flight at best, and as Matt looked slightly pale, Beyond again took the hand of the younger man. "Do you want to talk?", he began. "I mean... about what actually happened to you?"

"I guess... well, I can tell you the gist, if that's okay. Mello was my lover, sort of.", Matt said, looking out of the window. The light in the cabin was dimmed and the lights deep down on the earth could clearly be seen.

"Sort of?", the killer asked.

"Yeah, I mean... I loved him. I don't know if he really loved me. He never told me. We cuddled sometimes, but most often he would just fuck me. We didn't talk that much. But he was _there_ , you know? I followed him around during the day. People even called me his puppy at some point. Oh well. But doesn't everyone need at least someone to talk to? Or at least someone around? I'm not that easy to get along with, and this hot as fuck boy, hmm. Whatever."

"And then... let me guess, he left you?"

"Yeah. He did. Didn't say a word. He left because L didn't appoint a successor and he didn't want to work together with Near."

"This albino kid?"

"Ha, yes. I mean, I had nothing against the boy. He was kinda creepy, staring a hole into your body. But he was nice."

"Phew. So Near was number one, honestly?"

"Yes. And Mello second, all the time. He hated it. I was third."

"You were third without even trying, Mail. Am I right?"

"Sort of, I guess. Mello would have freaked out, you know? If I would outrank him. And I never wanted to become L to begin with."

"Do you know what? I guess you could have been number one."

"Beyond...", Matt said, slightly annoyed. "Please. I'm glad that I'm out of that madhouse."

"Yeah... I for one shouldn't complain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The IP address mentioned actually does exist, but it's obviously not the mainframe of some airline. Try it if you're bored.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Captain Ramirez speaking. We are currently at an altitude of 9300 feet and will be landing in Los Angeles in about 30 minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts and listen to the security advice of the flight attendants. Thank you."

Mail Jeevas and Beyond Birthday, two completely different and yet so similar men, where dozing in their seats. The younger one of the two was still somewhat ill and tried hard not to throw up, while the older man was holding the hand of the younger one, playing absentmindedly with it's fingers. The two hadn't talked much, trying hard to get some much needed sleep, but given the circumstances, this was very hard.

Matt still did not know what exactly Mello had done, but it was definitely something very stupid. Even back in the orphanage the blonde boy had pulled some stunts which had left a lot of people shaking their heads, but now, it seemed, he had lifted everything on a whole new level.

Beyond noticed the tension of the other man, but the only thing he could do at the moment was gently stroking Matt's hand in a desperate attempt to calm the hacker down. The redhead was definitely scared that something terrible had happened to his childhood friend, but there was more. He couldn't quite lay his finger on hit, but the way Matt was speaking about Mello was odd somehow. Trying to imagine the relationship between the boys, Beyond could not avoid the feeling that there was quite some level level of neuroticism involved. And didn't Matt say that the other children had called him 'Mello's Puppy'? Hmm. The killer hoped that the friendship between the redhead and the fiery blonde wasn't as unhealthy as it sounded to him.

Staring out of the window and watching the lights of LA appearing in the distance, the hacker was still deeply preoccupied in his thoughts. Somewhere down there was Mello, badly hurt, likely in pain. The decision to come to LA and trying to save him was made in an instant, without thinking about it. Matt felt a deep obligation to respond to Mello's call of distress which he had received some hours ago on his phone, but... did he do this out of friendship? He was not sure about that. It felt more like some obligation, but not a moralic obligation which forces you to do some good deed. Rather, the hacker felt like a valet, responding to the call of his master.

Mello... he sucks the energy out of you, totally involved with his insane power struggle with Near about some stupid number, and at the same time blind for the emotional needs of his friends. Blind for Matt's needs, apart from the carnal, physical ones. But sex couldn't replace spending quality time together, now could it? And what was Mello's idea of quality time? It scared Matt that he couldn't even answer this easy question about his former partner. Have they always been that far apart?

Incidentally it was Beyond still stroking his hand who helped Matt to answer this nagging question. It almost came as a shock, as it occured to the redheaded man that Mello had never, not a single time, comforted him. He had never touched Matt in a gentle way, had never hugged him. The only time the two boys had spent in close contact were the nights. Often, the blonde had viciously fucked his redheaded boyfriend, only to slumber into a deep sleep afterwards. Quite often, Matt had stayed awake, just to watch Mello sleep and touch him gently, as it was the only time of the day where the blonde boy was somewhat peaceful.

Matt couldn't help himself and began shivering somewhat. He didn't want to cry, not again. But the blackhaired killer was faster, already leaning over to the younger man and taking him into a deep hug.

"I don't know why I'm doing this.", the redheaded boy whispered.

"We are saving someone's life. There has to be nothing more, if you do not want it. Don't let yourself be dragged into something... please...", Beyond whispered back.

"He had never... he had never touched me like this. It was always L, always Near. I don't even know what I was for him. I guess I don't even want to know."

"Don't let it drag you down. Mail, promise me, please! Don't fight a war which isn't yours...", Beyond said, feeling a lumb forming in his neck. Only for two days he had known Matt, and already he felt him being dragged away by some phantom. But this was not going to happen. He wouldn't let this boy run into his own demise like Alternative did so many years ago. Not again, not again! Maybe this was the curse of the Wammy alumni, maybe it was some wicked spin of fate. But whatever it was, there was still time to fight.

Matt felt how Beyonds hug tightened around him, and in combination with his motion sickness it became somewhat hard to breath. Still, he did not want the killer to let go. "Beyond... hey. Don't cry, please. I won't do anything stupid if you stop choking me...", he said, smirking.

"Oh, eh... sorry.", Beyond laughed.

"I'm scared too. I'm scared of what we might find. Don't... I mean, Beyond, please don't judge me. But some part of me doesn't want to find him alive. I don't know how to explain it, he's so possessive."

"You are scared to be dragged into his dark orbit again, to be made into some tool... am I right?"

"Yes. What does that make me into? It doesn't feel right."

"Mail, it is okay. No, it is not okay, it is totally right, because you deserve something. Everyone deserves something in his live. You do too, maybe even more so, because you've been denied everything for so long."

Matt couldn't look into Beyond's eyes. Did he really mean that? It felt so strange to be accepted, almost unreal. Had he really been a toy? But... didn't he feel just like that when Mello ran away and abandoned him... throw him away like some toy which got boring with time? The hacker bit his underlip. In a way this was nothing new for him. It had even felt normal in a way. At least until he met the strange man sitting in the seat next to him, who had shown him something completely new: True affection.

* * *

**January 4, 7:20 AM, LAX**

"Even if we find him, where do we bring him to?", Matt asked Beyond, as the two men were walking through the huge parking lot of Los Angeles' airport.

"I still have a hideout here. Don't worry. Hey, look!"

The killer pointed to a red Camaro and as Matt got sight of the car, he smiled like a small child.

"Oh damn, it's hot! And easy to hot-wire. Man, we got a car!", the redhead bursted out.

"Fits your hair.", the killer smiled.

The two men walked over to the car. In an instant Matt had opened the door and began fiddling with the wires under the dashboard, while Beyond hucked the two backpacks on the backseat.

"Got it!", Matt exclaimed and started the motor.

"Great. Now... let's go. South Wilmington Avenue, right?"

"Right, just where this raffinery is."

"Arco."

The killer gave the redheaded hacker a long look. Matt looked back with a questioning look.

"Everything okay, Mail?"

"No, not really.", Matt said wrily. "But don't worry about me... we have to go, right."

"Right.", Beyond confirmed. But at the same time he wondered how often the hacker might have uttered this last sentence. Way too often, he concluded.


	10. Chapter 10

"You know, if you can't navigate in your own city without google maps it's really time to question your life choices.", Beyond said.

Matt couldn't help himself but smile. "Yeah. I love technology, it's pretty obvious, but people are becoming too dependant on it without really knowing what's going on. Do you know that your provider isn't spying on your mails? Of course not. Is it likely? Yes, sure. After all, they're making money with advertising, so it's only natural that they want to know as much as possible about you. That's why you never have to pay for stuff like mailboxes and social media. Your data is the actual currency."

"Not to mention PRISM."

"Wow, you know about that?", the redheaded hacker exclaimed.

"Sure. I've seen the plans on _dockmaster_. But I gave up about warning people. The last time I tried they called me a stupid crackpot."

"You've been on dockmaster? Whoa, Beyond...."

"Yeah, MIDAS is some crazy shit, but well, we're Wammy Boys."

"Is it true that it could detect hackers from the way they were typing?"

"Yes, that's actually true. It had statistics about each one of the legitimate users... how fast they typed, what mistakes they usually made, and so on. So I had to use the account of someone who didn't use the system that often... the knowledge base of MIDAS would be quite small then, and allow for some statistical margin on my side."

"Beyond, you're totally crazy."

"Oh... you're flattering me again, Mail!"

* * *

**January 4, 8:45 AM; South Wilmington Avenue, Los Angeles.**

After a stressful drive through the morning rushhour of Los Angeles, the two men arrived at the Arco Raffinery. Without saying a word, Beyond and Matt stepped out of the car and walked towards the industrial complex. The scent of gasoline and burnt plastic lay in the air and the smog-ridden sky shimmered in an unhealthy yellow.

"This way.", Beyond said, looking on a portable radio scanner they had bought with them. "I guess it's picking something up. Could be a cell phone..."

"Looks like the end of the world.", Matt commented, stepping over rubble. Beyond only nodded.

After some minutes a ruined building came into view. Some fires were still burning and debris littered the place. It was eerily silent, apart from the soft crackling of the fires. Remains of the structural steelwork, bent from the heat, pointed towards the sky like huge metal-fingers. The air tasted awfully and it became hard to breath due to the obnoxious fumes still emanating from the disaster site.

For a moment Matt stould in awe in front of the burning carcass of steel and concrete. 'Mello... what did you do?', he repeated, over and over in his head.

Beyond glanced warily towards the fires, breathing heavily, until he returned his attention back to the radio scanner.

"Got one, on 940 MHz!", he yelled at Matt, and began walking towards a huge heap of rubble. The killer switched the scanner into homing mode and it began beeping in short intervals. As Beyond walked towards the heap, the beeping became more frantic.

Matt followed in a short distance, trying not to trip over the remains of the building which were scattered all over the area.

Suddenly, a vulture began crying in the distance and the redhead almost jumped into the air out of shock. Shivering he took Beyonds free hand.

As the two men arrived at the pile of rubble, the beeping changed into a steady, unnerving tone. Beyond switched the scanner on mute and began circling the heap.

"There!", he yelled, and pointed with a shaking finger onto something.

Matt went closer and saw a boot sticking out of the heap.

Frantically, the two men began lifting concrete debris and throwing it away, carefully avoiding letting whole structure to collapse further. As more and more stones were laid aside, a human body was slowly exposed. The two men could already see badly burnt leather pants and red boots. After some more minutes of hectic work, the whole body came into view. And the sight was horrible.

Mello was wearing some kind of gas mask, which obviously saved at the bigger parts of his face, but his whole side was a mess out of burnt leather and skin, covered in ulcerating wounds and blood. But still, the blonde man was breathing.

"Do you think we can move him?", Beyond asked.

"We can't let him here. Let's go!", Matt said firmly, but with a shaking voice.

* * *

It had taken Beyond and Matt over twenty minutes to move the unconscious and badly burnt body of Mello back to the red Camaro. Every few steps the two men had made sure that their human luggage was still breathing, if only faintly. A few times they had almost tripped, but finally, they really had made it to the car with Mello alive. Carefully the body was laid onto the backseat, and moments later Matt crashed into the pessenger seat.

This time Beyond took the driver's place and carefully maneuvered the car back to the street. "We have to go to the hideout immediately. The cops will already be looking for this car!", he proclaimed and began driving faster. "It's not far from here."

Matt spent the short drive holding Mello's hand and feeling his pulse. It was weak and slighly irregular, but there was nothing he could do about this now. Even though he did not believe in God, he recited the only prayer he knew, and did so a few times, just to be sure.

Just as he was finished, Beyond steered into a dark backalley and finally let the car come to a stop. "We are there.", he said.

Matt attached the backpack with the stuff the two men had brought from New York and helped Beyond to carry Mello's body to a trap door some metres in front of the car.

After laying the body on the floor, the killer began working on the trapdoor. "This one leads to an abandoned tunnel of the old Pacific Electric streetcar network. It's not much, but it's home. And nobody will be looking for us there.", he explained.

Soon, the trapdoor was open, revealing a staircase leading down into the darkness. The two men picked the body up again and carefully went down the stairs. The staircase took a few turns, finally leading into a big, underground cavern. Beyond flipped a switch on the wall with his elbow and after a few seconds, various neon lamps flickered to life.

"Wooow!", Matt exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement.

All walls of the huge room were coated in black satin, while a thick, dark-red carpet covered the cold concrete floor. In one corner stood a cream-coloured leather couch, accompanied by a fitting armchair and a low table. A huge bed, overflowing with carpets and pillows stood in the other corner. Farther away Matt could even make out a bathtub, partly hidden behind a room divider. Some shelves and cabinets made up the rest of the furniture and everything was littered with books, papers and various binders.

Beyond gestured, and the two men hauled Mello towards the bed. Carefully, the unconscious body was lowered onto the mattress. Matt immediately collapsed next to Mello onto the bed, while Beyond made for the stairs again to close the still open trapdoor. Soon he was back and took a seat on the carpet in front of the bed.

"Welcome to my lair.", he said with an exhausted voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **dockmaster** was a huge computer system of the NSA, running the Multics operating system. It had a very elaborate security system called **MIDAS**. There isn't much known about this machine, and there is no Wikipedia article either. It's number was 198.26.55.74 (the prefix 198.26 is connected to the "DoD Network Information Center" in Columbus, Ohio, USA.)
> 
>  **PRISM** is a top secret surveillance program of orwellian proportions of the US government, which was made public in 2013 by Edward Snowden.  
>  In 2008, when this story takes place, speculations about something like PRISM were usually regarded as tinfoil hat theories. The informal term used was _NSA line eater_.


End file.
